


something old, something new, something reinvented

by misslestrange274



Category: Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Emotional Sex, F/F, Lesbian Sex, also jessica is bisexual fucking fight me like look at her she can't be straight lol, and they have an awkward not-a-relationship, basically jessica and jeri fuck you're welcome???, i guess, idk how to tag this man, set post season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-17 23:16:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14199765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misslestrange274/pseuds/misslestrange274
Summary: Jessica hates starting at the beginning - but maybe with Jeri she doesn't have to.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, hello, I just finished season two and I have A Lot Of Feelings. I love Jeri and Jessica so much and I ship them so hard. I know everyone ships Jessica with Trish, but Trish has been so annoying this entire season and I kind of can't stand her lol. I'm so disappointed the show makes Jessica so Aggressively Heterosexual(TM), I mean, Have You Considered she could have a questionable affair with a fancy laywer?? 
> 
> Anyway, this fic is set post season two. I used some quotes from the last episode because I really liked them and they actually kind of inspired this fic. I also ignored the whole Oscar thing because I just don't think the two of them would work out. With Jessica's trauma and intimacy issues? No fucking way, I don't think she's ready for a guy with a kid haha, just an opinion though, ship what you want and leave me be here in my little trashcan. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! This was written in a feverish haze because I got the flu -- so keep your expectations reasonable, I am but a simple lesbian who writes smut of questionable quality! :P

Jessica hates starting at the beginning.

Before the latest catastrophe life threw at her, she thought she at least had Trish, maybe even Malcolm; she could lean on someone, if she wanted to, except she never did because she fucking hates asking people for shit; but still, the option was there.

Now, Jessica feels truly and fully alone, but not in a bad way — she feels reinvented, clean — there are no burdens to hold her down. There is no Trish to worry about, no Malcolm to pester her, no psychopaths invading her mind and making her question her sanity, no mothers coming back from the dead to make her life an even worse shit-show than it already is. It’s peaceful, it’s quiet. Jessica can start anew, be reborn out of this blissful silence.

She’s gone through life untethered, unconnected, and she wasn't even aware that she’d chosen that. It took someone coming back from the dead to show her that she’s been dead too, in a way.

The problem is she's never really figured out how to live — and Jessica dreads having to start at the beginning.

She would like something — someone — but meeting new people is exhausting and everyone she knows she’s fucking sick of. There is, of course, Oscar, and Jessica likes him, likes his kid, but that’s not a life for her. She needs freedom, she needs to be able to hold on and let go whenever she wants to, because that’s just how Jessica is. A loner, a functional alcoholic, unpleasant and rude, caring, reliable, goddamn good at her job… and a human being with feelings and a sex drive.

People don't get Jessica. She is… definitely a taste to be acquired; one can either stomach her or not; and Jessica just doesn't have the patience to wait, play nice, go on dates, talk to people, pretend to give a shit, because people exhaust her and her life is so nice and silent for a change.

Jessica hates starting at the beginning — but maybe she doesn’t have to.

There is a person from Jessica’s past that’s still in Jessica’s good graces (well, more or less). She doesn’t sugarcoat her bullshit, doesn’t pretend she’s a hero, doesn’t pretend she’s doing things “to help people” and doesn’t act like she doesn't have a shady, selfish goddamn agenda.

Jessica is tired of people’s bullshit and so is Jeri Hogarth, and together they find solace during late, lonely nights.

Tonight is one of those nights, when trembling city lights are bittersweet and awaken a distant melancholy longing in Jessica’s heart, and so she finds herself at Jeri’s apartment. She gets in through the window because Jessica doesn’t care much for doors.

Jeri is sitting on the couch in a silky night robe, drinking red wine and staring absentmindedly at nothing in particular.

“Honestly, Hogarth, sometimes I can’t believe you’re for real. A silky night robe? What is this, the 1950s? Normal people sleep in underwear and a fucking T-shirt.”

It’s fucking ridiculous, but Jessica is kind of into it. It’s so extra and somehow very Jeri.

“How typical of you, Jessica, to come into my apartment through the window like a burglar and insult my sleepwear.” Jeri doesn’t look at Jessica, just shifts on the couch and looks very interested in the wine in her glass.

Everything changes and nothing changes. People die, more are born, and in between they exist, and sometimes things are nothing like they used to be, and sometimes elements that were already there are rearranged in a way that paints a completely new picture.

Jeri Hogarth is like a breath a of fresh air, feels familiar and new all at the same time. With Jeri, Jessica can just exist as she is. They have no delusions about each other; they are pieces rearranged in strange ways and odd angles, but the fit is... comfortable.

Jessica approaches the couch. She always feels a bit awkward walking with her dirty, old boots on Jeri’s fancy tiles, but Jeri has never once said anything about it.

“What are you drinking?” Jessica throws herself onto the couch next to Jeri. Her slouched figure is a contrast to Jeri’s straight posture. To an inexperienced eye Jeri might look stiff, but Jessica knows her well enough by now to know that she is currently relaxed — she just always has that air of stiffness around her. Jessica blames it on snobbishness.

Jeri is sitting with her legs up on the couch and they are smooth and silky and uncovered by her robe and Jessica feels the need to touch them, but refrains from doing so just yet. She notices Jessica looking, but doesn’t say anything.

“It’s Cabernet Sauvignon you couldn’t afford in a million years, but I don’t suppose it makes much of a difference to you, given your low standards in your choice of alcoholic drinks,” Jeri says, but still leans forward to pour some wine for Jessica in a glass that was already waiting for her on the table.

She hands the glass to Jessica. Alcohol is something Jessica has been (overly) familiar with for a very long time. She never smells it, never tastes it like something to be savoured, just pours it down her throat to dull herself — but with Jeri, only with Jeri, she spins the glass like Jeri taught her and smells it before she takes a sip. With Jeri, it’s old elements rearranged into something new and it suits Jessica just fine, because she hates starting at the beginning.

“It’s good,” Jessica says.

Jeri smirks. “Liar. You wouldn't’ care if it was cheap liquor store poison.”

“I do it to humor you. You did probably spend like a couple hundred dollars on it.”

Jeri looks at Jessica for the first time since she arrived. They see silent understanding in each other’s eyes.

Jeri knows Jessica hates starting at the beginning, feels lost when she has a blank space to fill in front of her, so she is always the first one to put down her glass and give Jessica a starting point. Tonight, she stretches her legs and puts them on Jessica’s lap.

“I saw you staring at my legs,” she says, tilts her head, like she dares Jessica to touch, to begin.

Jessica is not an idiot and she doesn't have to be told things twice. She puts her glass on the table and runs her hands over those smooth, smooth legs.

“How much do you pay for such a smooth depilation?” Jessica’s hands travel higher, reach the edge of the silky robe.

Jeri is never offended by Jessica’s stabs and provocations. Jessica wouldn’t bet on it, but she likes to think Jeri is amused by them.

Jeri leans back on her elbows, the gaze under her hooded lids inviting, and Jessica forgets where she is for a second.

“Let’s keep the air of mystery.”

Jeri smirks. Jessica scoffs.

“Snob,” says Jessica, but Jeri doesn’t say anything, just lets out a quiet hum of pleasure because Jessica’s hands are high up on her thighs, stroking, caressing, squeezing.

Jessica kicks off her boots and leans forward, kisses a spot below Jeri’s ear that makes Jeri hum again, kisses her neck, her collarbones, her chest. She unties Jeri’s robe and runs her hands over Jeri’s hips, sides, stomach, grabs her breasts and squeezes, and Jeri lets out a little moan.

Jessica has had a fair number of questionable affairs, but sex with Jeri isn't just getting off, doesn't resemble Jessica’s past experiences — it’s familiar sensations rearranged into something new.

She wraps her mouth around Jeri’s breast, licks her nipple, bites it, and Jeri hisses and tangles her fingers in Jessica’s hair. Jessica squeezes Jeri’s other breast, knows Jeri likes it when she’s a bit rough, while her other hand finds its way lower, lower, where Jeri wants her most. She runs her fingers over the band of Jeri’s underwear, then goes lower, teases, rubs, takes her time, because she wants to savour this, wants to enjoy her, taste her, smell her.

Jeri seems to have had enough of being teased; she pulls Jessica by her hair, up and away from her breast, and kisses her. Her hands find the zipper on Jessica’s jeans and she unzips it, slides her hands inside the jeans, squeezes Jessica’s ass. Her fingers tease over Jessica’s underwear and Jessica moans into Jeri’s mouth. She can feel Jeri’s self-satisfied smirk on her lips. Asshole.

Jeri removes her hands from Jessica’s jeans and pulls her leather jacket off of her shoulders. Jessica sheds it off and throws it somewhere behind the couch. Jeri then pulls Jessica’s shirt up, breaking the kiss so she can get it over her head. Jessica sits up and gets the shirt off, carelessly throws it away like she did her jacket.

Jessica’s pale skin is almost glowing in the dim, bluish light. Jeri looks at her, eyes dark with lust. She licks her lips. Jessica shivers under her gaze.

Jessica leans back down to kiss her again, but Jeri stops her, pushes her backward and Jessica falls on her back onto the couch. Jeri crawls on top of her, kisses her, slides her hands underneath Jessica’s bra, fondles her breasts, pinches her nipples. Jessica runs her hands over Jeri’s back, feels the silkiness of Jeri's night robe under her fingers.

It’s a fight for the upper hand because they both want to see the other one come undone first. Jessica has the advantage of her strength, but she doesn’t like to use it, not with Jeri. Somehow it feels like cheating.

Their bodies move together, hands travel up and down and Jessica isn’t sure anymore where she ends and Jeri begins. They’re odd angles, heated breaths and bites and hisses and moans. Jeri knows what she’s doing with her hands, her mouth; her every touch is pointed, has a purpose; she incites, orders, demands Jessica’s pleasure, and Jessica can never deny her because it feels so fucking good; while Jessica is instinctive, everywhere at once, a force of nature, and Jeri melts and moves underneath her touches, her usual stiffness now a distant memory. They are sharp, jagged pieces awkwardly rearranged in a comfortable fit.

“I want to taste you,” Jeri whispers. Jessica shivers at the mere words — she wants her, needs her, craves her — so she grabs a fistful of Jeri’s hair and guides her head down. Jeri pulls Jessica’s jeans down and bites into a milky thigh. Jessica grunts.

She spreads Jessica’s legs, licks and bites her way up Jessica’s inner thigh. She kisses Jessica's wet underwear and Jessica whimpers. Her tongue gently touches Jessica’s clit over the damp fabric.

“Fuck, Hogarth, I’m fucking dying, stop teasing me.” She doesn’t even have to look at Jeri to know there’s a shit-eating grin on her face. Jeri will take her sweet time just because she knows Jessica is turned on and needy and impatient.

Jeri gives Jessica another kiss through her underwear, teases, strokes, and just when Jessica thinks she can’t take it anymore, Jeri moves now completely damp fabric to the side and slides her tongue over the wet folds. Jessica moans and lifts her hips and Jeri yanks her underwear down and throw it away. She circles her tongue around Jessica’s clit, then slips two fingers inside of Jessica, curls them upward, and Jessica cries out.

She fucks Jessica with purpose, with gusto, and Jessica thinks she will go crazy. Her hand is wrapped in Jeri’s hair and she’s barely aware that she’s moving her hips back and forth. Her mind is blank, she can only think about Jeri’s fingers, Jeri’s tongue, and before she can comprehend what’s happening her orgasm hits her and she’s crying out and making sounds she would probably be embarrassed by if she was currently capable of giving a shit. Jeri slows her movements down significantly, but doesn’t stop moving her fingers or tongue until the last wave of pleasure is gone and Jessica’s grip on her hair loosens and her moans quiet down.

“Fuck,” Jessica pants out.

“I believe I just did.” Jeri licks her fingers. She looks pleased with herself, like a cat that caught a mouse. “Mmm. Delicious. In my experience, pussy goes very well with red wine.”

Jessica chuckles. “So fucking smug,” she says, but there is no bite to her words.

Jeri scoffs. “Can you move or will I have to find consolation in my vibrator?”

Jessica is suddenly pinning Jeri down on the couch. “God, Hogarth, you’re such a pain in the ass,” she says and bites Jeri’s neck. Jeri lets out a soft moan.

“Not what you seemed to think a couple of minutes ago.”

“Oh, shut up.”

She holds Jeri’s wrists as she makes her way down to the band of Jeri’s lace underwear, kissing, licking, biting, always everywhere all at once because Jessica was never the one for subtlety, and she can tell Jeri loves it, loves being wanted like that.

Jessica is still a bit pissed she wasn’t the one to make Jeri come first, so she pauses for half a second before she rips Jeri’s fancy lace underwear in half, just because she knows it was expensive. Jeri shoots her a nasty look, but when Jessica buries her head between her legs, Jeri whimpers and throws her head back. She is wet, much wetter than Jessica thought she would be. Jessica grins before sticking her tongue into the silky warmth.

Jeri holds Jessica’s hair back as she eats her out, thoroughly, mercilessly, all tongue and teeth and almost adoration. Jessica’s arms are stretched out and she’s squeezing Jeri’s breasts because she knows how much Jeri likes it, and Jeri is moaning and groaning and moving her hips and pulling Jessica’s hair. Jessica isn’t sure, because Jeri’s thighs around her head are preventing her from hearing that well, but she thinks that at some point Jeri moans her name. Jeri’s hips are moving up and down, smearing wetness over Jessica’s mouth, chin, nose, and Jessica knows she’s close.

Jeri Hogarth’s orgasm is a fascinating experience that Jessica can never get enough of — her usually stiff body is all curves and spasms, liquid underneath Jessica’s touch. She comes with undignified cries and whimpers, her muscles twitch and her nails dig into Jessica’s scalp. “Fuck, Jessica,” she keens, and Jessica doesn’t really have to do anything at this point because Jeri is basically riding her face.

After what might have been five minutes or a couple of seconds, Jessica isn’t sure, Jeri’s hips stop moving. Her entire body relaxes, her arm dangles off of the couch and she lets out a sigh.

Jessica loves watching Jeri after an orgasm. She’s still breathing heavily, her eyes are closed and her skin has a slight sweaty sheen to it.

“Those were four hundred dollar panties that you ripped.” Jeri's eyes are still closed.

“Oh, cry me a river. You can afford it.” Jessica wipes her face on her underarm.

Jeri hums her disapproval, but doesn’t press the matter further. She opens her eyes and gestures for Jessica to come closer. Jessica leans forward and Jeri unhooks Jessica's bra that, Jessica suddenly realises, is still on, but is kind of crooked and her breasts are spilling out of it in weird places. Jessica sighs in relief because she hasn’t even noticed how uncomfortable it was until it was off. She leans in, kisses Jeri almost gently. They lie there, wrapped around each other, and Jeri draws soothing little circles on Jessica’s back. The couch is a bit uncomfortable, but neither of them seems to mind.

“You know, Hogarth, I would never have taken you for a cuddler.” Jessica has to be an asshole, she can’t help herself.

“Fuck you.” Jeri doesn’t mind, she never minds. She continues to draw circles on Jessica’s back and Jessica strokes the nape of Jeri’s neck, enjoys the feeling of short hair under her fingers. They stay like that for a while, just existing. It’s silent, except for the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall. Silence is new for Jessica — she likes it.

“What time is it?” Jessica asks when she can’t feel her right arm anymore.

“Mmm. I think it’s around three in the morning.”

“I should go.”

“Mmm.”

Jessica is already up and searching for her clothes in the dark. Jeri is still lying on the couch. She reminds Jessica of an oversized cat.

“I don’t see shit.”

“Then turn on the light.”

“Doesn’t matter, I think I found my jacket.”

Jeri sits up and ties the robe around her waist. She watches Jessica dress herself. Dim light from the street comes through the window and casts a bluish glow on Jessica’s skin.

“I would see you to the door, but I guess disappearing through the window like a thief into the night is more your style,” says Jeri when Jessica is finally dressed.

Jessica reaches the window. “I appreciate the thought. See you around, Hogarth.”

Jeri says something, probably a goodbye, but her words are lost to Jessica as she jumps through the window into the night.

She moves through the sleeping city like a shadow. Her mind is blissfuly blank — she just enjoys the feeling of the cool night air on her skin, enjoys simply existing for a change.

Jessica hates starting at the beginning — but with Jeri she doesn’t have to.

For once, she doesn’t have trouble falling asleep when she finally reaches her bed that night. She imagines Jeri’s fingers drawing soothing circles on her back — calming, gentle, familiar — and doesn’t even realise when she drifts into sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just some art that goes with the story!

[](https://imgur.com/fp3d38Q)


End file.
